Ten Dates: An enemies-to-lovers romance from Rachel Dove

By Rachel Dove

The emotional and heart-warming page turner from bestselling author Rachel Dove!

Perfect for fans of Beth O’Leary, Kathryn Freeman, Emily Houghton and Josie Silver!

Is it the end of their love story or just the beginning?

Callum Roberts and Alice McClaren have spent two wonderful years building a life and a home and making plans for a future together. But when Alice is involved in a car crash, Callum fears that he has lost her forever. As he sits by her bedside he promises he’ll do anything if only she’ll open her eyes…

But when Alice does finally wake up, she has absolutely no memory of being in love with Callum or the life they once shared. In fact, all she remembers about him is how incredibly annoying he once was! How can she have forgotten him if she really did love him so deeply?

Callum is determined to prove to Alice that what they had was special, so he makes her a deal: he’ll recreate their first ten dates and make her fall in love with him all over again!

Alice isn’t sure Callum can fill in all the gaps in their story.And what if going back to the start only means the end?

Readers LOVE Rachel Dove!

'Another wonderful, emotional read from the fantastic Rachel Dove. I couldn't put it down.' Bestselling author Portia MacIntosh

Left me begging for more!… Fun and enjoyable read. Highly recommend!’ NetGalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘I loved this romantic book!’ NetGalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘Read in one sitting. Really enjoyable read. Totally recommend.’ NetGalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘This book had me gripped from the start… A great page turner that has you guessing and waiting to see just what happens.’ NetGalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘I expected a cute summer type rom-com, but what Rachel Dove gave us is a thousand times better… A book that touched on those very real and heavy emotions, without rushing through them to get to the happily ever after.’ NetGalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘A heartwarming single-parent romance book… Andrew Brody is the perfect gentle giant… Had me smiling throughout the whole read.’ NetGalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boldwood Books
• Release date: Mar 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781804836040

Rachel Dove

Rachel Dove lives in leafy West Yorkshire with her family, and rescue animals Tilly the cat and Darcy the dog (named after Mr Darcy, of course!). A former teacher specialising in Autism, ADHD and SpLDs, she is passionate about changing the system and raising awareness/acceptance. She loves a good rom-com, and the beach!

Book preview

1

ALICE

My eyelids are stuck shut. Did I sleep with my lashes on again? Damn it. Well, this is going to hurt.

Not the most original thought she’d ever had, but it was the first conscious thought Alice remembered having after. When she played the moments over and over in her addled mind, searching for some clue that would make the whole chaotic mess fit together. That thought, and the smell. Cleaning products. Something sharper. Bleachy. The smell of it was thick in her nostrils, as though she were sitting shut-eyed in some kind of sterile space. It made her want to wrinkle her nose. The chemicals weren’t the only thing she caught the whiff of. There was… was… what was it she could smell? It was… familiar, in a way. She lay there, trying and failing to place it.

Something else was there, in the air. It rose above the bleach stink but didn’t overpower it. It carried a different energy to it. Something spicier. Muskier. That smell danced in her nostrils, but the origin eluded her entirely.

When she’d first woken up, that was what her brain offered up. The first profound offerings her mind spat out at her. Hardly a reboot, was it?

She’d tried to open her eyes, the action not even planned. It was just something her body did day after day, wasn’t it? She couldn’t think right now. Her brain felt… woolly. She tried again, but everything was just too heavy. Her eyelids being one of those things. She couldn’t get them to do her bidding. They were trying though; she could feel her lashes being ripped out now and again. The odd tiny flash of pain when she tried to strain to see her surroundings.

There was an annoying beep in the corner. It was methodical, robotic. As she tried to move her limbs, the beep got a little quicker. The space between beats shortening, more rapid fire. It was bloody annoying. Beep-beep-beep-beep. She wanted to reach out and stop the sound, kill it. That would need arms though, and if she couldn’t lift a pair of eyelids, arms were just not going to happen, were they?

‘Mmmff.’ She tried to speak but her lips were like rubber. Her mouth felt so dry, like she had licked the Sahara sand itself. Panic started to set in. There was something wrong. She felt trapped in her own body. Was that why her eyes wouldn’t move too? Oh my God. What the hell was going on? Had she been kidnapped? Behind her closed eyelids she could make out a bright room. She could make out the light. It wasn’t a dark dungeon and she wasn’t lying in some sack on a cold stone floor. She couldn’t feel the lick of hell fire flames around her either, so that was something. She was in a bed, she knew. How had she gotten here, though? She tried to remember the last thing she’d done. The last place she’d been. She wracked her brain, but all she got back were flashes of memory. Images she couldn’t recall seeing before. Snippets of things she couldn’t marry together. What the hell was going on? She tried to take a deep, steadying breath and felt a hand on her arm.

‘Whoa, whoa. Don’t panic,’ the voice was deep, unmistakably male. Gravelly, and full of concern. ‘Nurse!’ He shouted that last word, and the sound rattled around in her brain like a bullet. She raised her hands to shush them. Or thought she did, at least. She felt pain instead. Her arms ached and felt as though they’d just been stuck onto her body.

‘Sorry, sorry, baby. Don’t panic, okay? I’ve got you. I’m here, babe. I’m here. Can I get some help in here, now!’

She heard the slam of a palm against the wall. A click. Another beeping noise started up behind her. This one was like a bloody siren, and the noise pierced her brain. Blurp! Blurp! Over and over.

She tried to shush it, to move, but everything was too hard. She wasn’t in control of her own body. She heard noises from further away. The bang of the door as hands pushed it, the squeak of rubber-soled shoes as feet surrounded her. The hand on her arm didn’t move or make any attempt to pull away, even as she felt other hands on her.

‘Sir, please! Let us work!’

‘Just tell me what’s happening. Alice?’

‘Mr McClaren, calm down!’ Another stern female voice that time. She heard the male voice chunter something back, but she couldn’t make it out. ‘Let the nurses work!’

Nurses. It clicked. She was in a bed. In a hospital. The heartbeat monitor beeped faster still.

‘Alice, calm down.’ The male voice again. Mr McClaren, they’d called him that. For God’s sake, why can’t I open my eyes? Too bright. Too scary. I need to look. Look…

‘Mr McClaren, we will force you to leave if you continue.’

The hand never moved from hers; it squeezed a little tighter. Don’t let go, her brain screamed silently.

‘Listen, I’ve been here the whole time. You’d know that if you’d been here, and my damn name! I’m going nowhere.’

‘I’ll call security!’ The annoyed female voice half shouted back over the beeps and the movement of bodies. Alice was being prodded and poked, and people were talking to each other using medical terms she couldn’t decipher.

The gravelly voice fell off a cliff, his tone solid, dark. ‘Try it. I fucking dare you.’

The hand holding hers was ripped away. No. Stay with me. I’m scared.

‘Get off me man! Alice!’ The growl was desperate now. She had never heard her name sound so full of panic and pain before. ‘Alice! I’m here. I’m not leaving!’

Dad? It didn’t sound like Dad. Or her brother, Lewis. He was softer spoken than most men. Her dad was deep, but it didn’t register. He didn’t growl like that, but that was the Mr McClaren she’d first thought of. Two women were talking to the voice, and another one was trying to get him to leave the room, but he was having none of it. She tried to reach her hand towards him, feeling like she needed him to stay with her. She tried, and barely managed to lift it off the sheet. There was a commotion in the room, the man growling his refusal to leave.

‘Fine!’ She heard one of the nurses say. She felt a calloused palm clamp onto her hand. It engulfed it entirely, but it was soft too. She tried to look at the hand, to really see it there, in hers. Dad’s felt different to this, and she burned to finally see what the hell was going on. The lid on her right eye had started to lift, choosing now to finally cooperate, but all she saw were retreating fingers as they were being pulled away. Her own flexed towards their retreating form.

She couldn’t move, the nurses were still talking to her, and then she was coughing and gasping and the beeps were like a cacophony of sound assaulting her eardrums. She wanted it to stop. She wanted it gone. The noise was too much. She couldn’t see, couldn’t get her body to do what she needed it to. The growling voice never stopped talking. Telling her he was right here. Would always be there. She could hear the deep voice shouting, but she couldn’t feel him any more. He sounded so different. She could feel the terror in his voice. Could feel her brain getting darker again as events overwhelmed her.

Before the lights went out again, she heard a distinct shout. ‘Baby! Don’t leave me! Fight, sparrow, fight!’

Sparrow? What the hell does a sparrow have to do with me leaving? That was the last thought she had before she lost consciousness.

2

ALICE

The beeping was there again. Incessant. Monotonous. She squinted one eye, to see if her eyelid worked. It opened, but the bright light dazzled her. She tried to focus on something, anything, to ground her. Her eyes stung, making them water. It was quiet now. The panic and the people were all gone. She listened for the voice again, but heard only muffled conversation, far away. The other side of the door, she guessed. When her eyes finally adjusted, she realised it was night-time now. She could see the moon right outside her window, big and full. As if someone had brought it there to show her that she was still on the planet. She looked at it for the longest time before she could bring herself to look away. The pain she felt whenever she tried to move wasn’t making her want to rush. Everything felt sore, stiff. Something bad had happened. It didn’t take a genius to work that out. But it was like her brain didn’t want to think about it. Or couldn’t, which scared her more to contemplate. She felt movement, a squeak of something on the floor. She realised that there was someone else in the room.

Through her peeking eye, she just about made out a blue shape next to the bed. Opening both eyes gingerly, and after a whole lot of blinking, she finally focused on the room around her. Her tired, stinging retinas revealed a man who was using a faded blue denim jacket as a blanket. Not the shape of her dad. Bigger. A lot bigger. His body filled the chair entirely and then some. His face was crinkled up, even in sleep. His head was turned away from her, a grizzly beard obscuring the rest of her side view. She tried to see who it was, but her eyelids were already dropping again with the effort of thinking about it. She lifted her left hand, a double cannula taped to the back of her wrist. She tried to lift her other arm and stopped when she felt a stab of pain run up her limb.

‘Fssshhh…’ she grunted, and the man in the chair jumped up from his seat.

‘Sparrow? Oh my God! Baby!’

‘Oww.’ She dropped her arm onto the bed without thinking. Hissing when a fresh bolt of pain ran up it. Her whole body felt sore. Alien to her.

‘Sshh…’ she tried to tell him, but the jacket was flung onto the floor, and he was running out of the door shouting at the top of his bloody lungs. What the hell was he doing here anyway? He was a bit scruffy to be working there, surely? Dad. Dad was here, she remembered. Was it Dad? She felt fuzzy on the details. Did Dad send him here? Not Dad, she remembered. Different voice. Familiar though. One way to find out.

‘Dad?’ Ai-chihuahua. That hurt. It felt like she’d banged her head against something hard. Just from saying one word. It didn’t even come out of her mouth properly. It was like coughing up dust, not a name she’d said all her life.

Her throat. She remembered she was busted up, in a bed. She wracked her brain. Facts. She needed facts. Why was she here? What the hell happened? What did she remember last?

When you lost something, you always looked in the last place. That was the rule.

She remembered something about the weather. Wet. She’d felt wet. And cold. She shivered at the memory, pain letting her know it was there in about fifty different places. Jesus Christ. Her vision swam, and the beeping got faster. The bloody beeping. Over and over. Faster. Quicker. Her head banged with pain. Like a drum that never stopped, with the bloody beeping like the insistent water out of a leaky tap. Like rain. It was raining. She remembered. Did she fall over, hit her head? Hurt her arm trying to catch her fall? It didn’t feel like it. She felt like she’d been hit by a damn truck. A big truck, filled with something heavy. Like lead, or bricks. None of your rice cake transporting tiny wagons. A real-life Arctic frigging truck. Filled with frozen Arctic rolls. Those things were like breeze blocks before you defrosted them.

The door opened, and the room started to fill with people again. Jesus, the noise.

‘Will you please be quiet?’ She tried to half shout, but her throat was sore, cracked. Craggy, with a couple of puffins’ nests clinging to the sides, full of tourist fluff by the sounds of it. She was so parched. ‘Drink?’ Looking back at her were two doctors, one of them a grey-haired, official-looking man who was obviously some kind of consultant, and the other who was a rather nerdy-looking young man with large, horn-rimmed glasses on. They were far too big for his face, and she had to resist the urge to laugh. Not that she had the saliva to spare to do that. She realised as her vision swam again that she might be on some kind of drug. Given that she had wires coming out of her like the creature from Stranger Things, it was a good guess. ‘Am I… drugs?’

The senior fellow opened his mouth to speak but was pushed from behind. Dear God. Her mother came running across the room, tearing up the second she saw her daughter lying in the bed. Well, I must be a mess. Her mother wasn’t prone to drama. She was normally bloody stoic. Annoyingly at times. She was definitely a glass half full type of person, but she was looking at her like a broken tumbler she couldn’t stick back together. Alice felt a wave of relief when she first set eyes on her. Her mum was here, things would be fine. Except the look on her mother’s face. The beeping got a little faster.

‘Mum.’ She tried to lick at her lips. Her mother tutted and, eyeing the doctor, she filled a tumbler with water from a jug that Alice hadn’t seen before. It was sitting on a dresser that she hadn’t clocked. The room was very different to what she’d expected. Not that she’d seen more than a chunk of bright light before. It didn’t look like a typical hospital room. She was in a private side room, not a ward. She’d guessed as much already. It was full of crap, for one thing. Gaudy explosions of colour along the windowsill and surfaces that hurt her eyes almost as much as the bright lights.

Once her mother had lifted the glass to her lips, she took a big drink through the straw sticking out of it. Her mother held it still, making her feel like a toddler. She was parched. It eased her poor throat and felt like she could finally speak. She turned to her mum, a million questions on her lips. Only one pushed itself from her mouth. It was the one that burned on her tongue the most.

‘What the hell… is all… this shit doing here? Am I… someone’s else room?’ The two sentences had taken her an age to croak out, every other word a shadow of itself. She turned her gaze back to the doctors. ‘Did someone… just die in… here or something?’ The doctors just looked at each other. There was stuff everywhere. Cards, a little cushion with a small brown bird on the front, chocolates in puke-inducingly cute packages. A fruit basket. More cards hung from a string on the far wall. The worst thing she’d seen though, by far, was a soft toy gorilla. She hated gorillas with a bloody passion. Who the hell would send her that? That was when something clicked. The taxi.

‘I was in an accident. A taxi.’ Now they were all just nodding at her. She didn’t feel right. ‘Did I die?’ She looked at her mum, but she was now crying like a loon. She couldn’t get any sense out of her. ‘Did I die? Am I dead?’ The doctors went to speak, but someone pushed forward into the room.

The guy in the denim blanket. She recognised him from somewhere. The beard. It sat oddly on his face to her, looked strange. He didn’t normally have a beard like that. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but it was glaring. She knew him. His name was on the tip of her dry tongue.

‘No, you didn’t die, Alice.’ When he spoke again, said her name, it clicked. She knew exactly who it was. Gravelly voice too. What did that remind me of? Last night? God, I wish my brain would work. ‘You were hit by a drunk driver. Going home after a night out in town. It was raining heavily and the other driver, he… lost control. You didn’t have your belt on.’ He looked angry. She could see movement by his side. When she looked, his fists were clenching and unclenching. She looked at her mother, but she was still crying. The nerd doc was talking to her in soft, hushed tones. She looked back at the man before her, and it clicked. Bringing with it more confusion, and a little lick of anger of her own.

Why was he telling her this? She knew exactly who this guy was, and she didn’t need to hear anything from him. She was still hopping mad at him. He’d been there, that night. She levelled her gaze at him. He kept jabbering on, and she tuned back in.

‘I’m so sorry, I wish I’d been there, with you.’

‘Why on earth would you want that?’ She looked aghast at him, pointing with a stiff arm to her injuries. ‘Then you’d have been in here with me, wouldn’t you? And I’m still mad at you.’ Her hoarse voice was getting better, her anger helping her to push the words forth. She pointed a finger towards his face fuzz. ‘Do you always skulk around hospital beds, looking like a reject from Swiss Family Robinson?’ He didn’t have a beard before. Was she losing her mind here? She felt like she was hallucinating on the drugs she was on.

‘Ali—’

She kept going, cutting him off. ‘What’s with the face fuzz? You in witness protection or something?’ What is he doing here, being the spokesperson? Am I being pranked? My brain is not working at all.

His head snapped back at her question, but she turned back to the doctors and dismissed him. Before she could even open her mouth, he was piping up again.

‘It’s me. It’s Callum, Ali.’

She looked at him again, wondering why he was stating the obvious.

‘It’s me, babe. It’s Callum.’ He rubbed at the monstrosity on his face. ‘I haven’t had time to shave for a while.’

She took him in again. He looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot. The bags underneath could cater for the Kardashians next trip with ease. Faking a beard though? It was a bit much. Was he incognito or something? She’d slapped his clean-shaven face only hours before. Right before she’d got into the taxi that would later crash.

‘You really are an idiot. Take it off. I don’t get why you’re trying to make a joke right now. And where’s Lewis? Did my stupid brother put you up to this?’ She started to look towards the door, half expecting Lewis to pop out wearing a wig and a fake goatee. They were always pissing about when they were together, but she wasn’t in the mood for this.

‘Lewis is at work, Alice. He couldn’t get cover, or he’d be here. Michelle too. He didn’t put me up to anything. Take what off?’

‘The fake beard! I’m in no mood for your jokes.’

He looked at the doctor, and then down at himself. She turned back to the doc, ignoring him completely.

‘What happened? What’s wrong with my body, and my head?’

For men who looked struck dumb, the two medical professionals were pretty animated by her question.

‘Miss McClaren, you were involved in a road traffic accident. You were correct, you were in a taxi vehicle at the time. Now, we need to do some checks of course, but I just want to ask you a couple of questions first. We’ll explain everything, I promise.’

The room was quiet now, her mother was looking straight at her as if she were a newborn baby. She must have given them a scare; she knew she was in bad shape. She could feel every little and large injury, and she didn’t even know what they were yet. Callum’s face was what shocked her the most, though. Other than the beard. He looked so upset. Maybe he’d realised he’d been an idiot that night. Maybe it was guilt, she thought rather petulantly. She giggled without meaning to and noticed that only made Callum’s expression worse.

‘Doc, is she okay?’ His eyes slid from hers to the doctor in front of her and she wanted to tell him to leave now. She wanted to be alone with the doctors; looking at the faces of the people she knew and loved was freaking her out. What was Callum’s deal anyway? They didn’t tend to hang out alone together. He was with his friends, namely her brother. She was with hers. They often just crossed paths that way. She was close with her brother and best friends with his fiancée Michelle, or Migs as she was known to them. They’d grown up in the same neighbourhood. Migs and Lew had gotten together in high school, stayed together ever since. They were a little gang, but hanging just with Callum?

They were what she’d describe as frenemies, mixed with a rivalry that often sparked fierce debates. Callum wasn’t the one she’d call first for help. Him being here, without Lewis or Michelle, it was weird. Everyone was acting strangely, she decided. Her mother had just hugged the nerdy doctor, she was sure of it. Callum was still looking at her. His facial hair blocked any attempt of working out what he was thinking, not that she considered herself an expert. She was still mad at him for trying to chat her up. And what had he said again? Right before she’d slapped him?

I’ve always wanted you. I’ve been a coward for years, but I can’t take it any more. Go out with me, Ali. Please?

That was it! She remembered how earnest he’d looked. How sincere he’d been, even with half a bottle of Jack singing through his veins. He’d been weird all night, drinking more than he usually did, being all extra moody. Take what any more? He wound her up, she wound him up. Coward for years? What did that even mean? He made himself sound like a star-crossed lover. Even if she occasionally did find him attractive, the girl crush she’d had on him had been secret and short lived. Well, mostly. She’d learned to stuff it down quite well over the years. It was a bit like fancying a movie star. You could look, but the reality was, it was never going to happen. She’d forget about it. A product of misplaced horny teen hormones, she’d reasoned.

She used to think he might like her, years ago, when Lewis and he had been friends at school, played football on the same team, but nothing ever came of it. He was one of her brother’s friends, the annoying one. He seemed to enjoy winding her up most of the time. He always called her Ali, even though no one else did, and she liked it that way. Hearing it from his lips always made her feel odd, but she’d stopped trying to correct him after the first hundred times he said it. It just seemed to stick.

That night though, he hadn’t been joking. He’d seemed to be almost in pain, trying to get his words out. It hadn’t gone well, of course. She’d been too shocked and annoyed to give it any real consideration. Plus, she’d had one or two drinks herself by that point. She didn’t trust her alcohol-lubricated tongue to do anything but tell him she wasn’t interested. For one thing, Callum had never had a serious relationship, and even regular dating wasn’t something he ever did. So where was he going with this, she’d asked herself, before chewing him out and getting into that stupid bloody taxi. He’d tried to ask her again. She remembered now, his white knuckles gripping the top of her car door. Trying to stay her exit. Eugh, and then he’d tried to bloody kiss her! As if! She wasn’t one of his groupies.

God, she’d been so mad at him in